


Distractions

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:52:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1190880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia spends the night preparing Stiles for a date which she forced upon him, but they get a bit distracted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distractions

Lydia Martin taps her fingertips on her side as she waits for Stiles to open his front door. After ringing the doorbell once again and sighing defeatedly, Lydia picks up her phone and is about to call the boy when he swings the door open. 

She looks him up and down and takes note of the areas for improvement: obvious and very real bedhead, the very yawn-inducing combination of t-shirt and sweatpants and the toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. Lydia’s eyes bulge, “Stiles, do not tell me you just woke up.” Stiles shoots her an apologetic look and she pushes her way past him through the door, “So this is the Stilinski house.” 

He gestures for her to follow him up the stairs, which she obeys. On most Saturday nights Lydia would be getting ready for a party - thrown by herself or otherwise. However, on this particular weekend, she has agreed to come over to Stiles house for the first time to help him prepare for a date. Of course, she was only willing to help since it was actually her idea for Stiles to ask out a girl in their shared Algebra class, Jane. Stiles had never noticed Jane before but she was pretty. Pretty and ordinary. He’d tried to convince himself that he could maybe use something normal in his life, and anyway, it’d been too long since his last date and obviously he was getting nowhere closer with Lydia. 

“Okay, first of all, you have to shower,” she declares once they reach his bedroom and Stiles leans over his bathroom sink to spit out the toothpaste in his mouth. He spins around at her, eyebrows drawn together, “I showered yesterday,” he says defensively. Lydia rolls her eyes and stalks into the bathroom to start running the shower water. Stiles throws his hands up in a surrendering manner and Lydia steps out of the bathroom so he can bathe. “Alright, you realize this is a date right? This isn’t Scott - you aren’t allowed to debate which superhero would be your best friend in real life. Do you know what to talk to her about?” 

She starts, roaming over to his walls to examine what goes on in the brain of Stiles Stilinski. Lydia’s never gone out of her way to get to know Stiles, but she has come to terms with the fact that he’s going to be a part of her life. Ever since all the revelations with Scott and all things supernatural, - especially considering her new Banshee status - a sort of friend group has formed and Lydia has to admit that she kind of likes it. She’d always been friends with Allison, of course, and there had always been Jackson in her life here-and-there. Scott was Stiles’ best friend, and Stiles was . . . something else. 

She was never oblivious to his attempts to chat her up or the way he stared at her in the hallways and at lunch. She didn’t mind the attention, but she never considered that she would have to know Stiles on this level. Now, she isn’t sure what Stiles is to her. They had gone to that dance together what seems like forever ago, and she still remembers what he said to her that launched her change of heart towards him - “get off your cute little ass and dance with me.” It wasn’t insulting like the calls that she so often receives from pigs that attend their high school, it was honest and funny without trying to be. That was just the first thing to get her to consider that maybe Stiles wasn’t just the nerd who thought he was in love with her. Since then, the two have been through a lot together. Lydia isn’t dumb - she knows that Stiles is an essential part to their team and that he’s been a part of every significant event in her life. 

Her fingers trace over the drawing of a tree Stiles framed and placed on his dresser. It was just a tree, she’d drawn loads of those, but Stiles framed this one, and that may always confuse Lydia. Actually, every part of his feelings for her confuse her. There have always been boys who pined after Lydia, but never since third grade and never this intensely. She thinks back to a time she’d aggressively tried to forget until now. She sees Stiles pry a flame from his best friend’s hands and declare that if Scott killed himself that he would have to go as well. She remembers the tears flowing down her face and the panic she felt as she tried to process what was happening. She sees the flame hitting the ground and noticing it roll towards pools of gasoline. In two seconds, it would light the ground on fire and Stiles and Scott would become a pile of ash, so she did what anyone would - she sprung out of her scared daze and knocked the two out of the way. She tells herself it would’ve been the same feeling for any of her friends - maybe even strangers, but she won’t forget how afraid she was that she would lose the boys and she has to admit how fond she has really become of the friendships they’ve all formed with each other. 

“Lydia, I’ve been on dates before, give me a break.” She hears Stiles shout over the water from the bathroom. She smiles and notices the pile of detention slips he has collected and saved, apparently, on his dresser and raises an eyebrow. Suddenly she remembers a time when Stiles was just the boy who got in trouble all the time for talking to his best friend during class. 

“Yeah? Tell me how successful all of those were,” she smirks to herself and the water turns off.  
“Ah, that’s why I’ve enlisted the beautiful Lydia Martin to pick out my outfit and script me for the night.” Stiles says, hints of sarcasm in his voice. Lydia turns around to head towards the closet and sees Stiles standing on the other side of the bathroom door, towel wrapped around his bottom half, drips of water randomly placed over his torso, and hair even messier than it was when she’d arrived. She prays that she isn’t actually gaping at him, but she can’t seem to jerk her head away from the scene. He looks exasperated, his mouth hanging open, and his chest rising and falling dramatically with each breath. The towel clings just below his hipbones and try as she might, she can’t stop herself from thinking - wishfully, maybe - that if it was just a tad bit lower . . . 

“Lydia? Are you okay?”  
Her eyes widen and she throws her head to the side, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head, “W-uh, y-yeah I’m . . .,” she laughs nervously, “Why?” Her voice shaking just a little, she desperately tries to regain her composure without looking anywhere in his direction. “Oh, uh, I think you just zoned out for a sec,” he returns the nervous laugh and sits on his bed. 

Lydia steals a quick glance at him and gulps heavily, “Yeah, okay, I’ll just . . .” she nods and swings open the closet doors to reveal an unsurprising collection of jeans and t-shirts. Finally, after a moment of rushed searching, she locates a pair of pants mumbling something about loving khakis and tosses them to the bed. When she hears the sound that can only be a towel hitting the carpet, she can actually see her own eyes pop out of her head. She steps closer into the closet and makes her best effort to not look elsewhere. After a minute-or-something of pretending to look at shirts and mainly focusing on forcing herself to not look at Stiles Stilinski naked (which, admittedly, is a tough fight against her curiosity), he clears his throat. “You can, like, stop hiding,” he laughs, “I’m decent.” Lydia breathes and emerges from the closet to turn around and observe him.

Pants look good. Great, really. Lydia curses herself for forgetting she has a weakness for boys in khakis. Then her eyes trail up to his arms and all hell breaks loose in her mind. Another thing she has a thing for - biceps. And yep, Stiles has got ‘em. Not the kind that you see on fitness magazines which are disgustingly large and veiny and she wouldn’t go within 100 feet of, but the innocent kind. Clean and soft but the muscles are still pronounced. Just enough to require her to curl her hands into firsts and dig her fingernails into her palms in order to keep herself from reaching out and touching. She takes a step forward, as a sort of test for herself. Her eyes flick up to his. They are soft and brown and fond. He looks amused. And suspicious. “Wha-whatchya doin, Lydia?”

She snaps back into Lydia Martin. Only now she’s Lydia Martin with the confusion of why she just had to physically repress the idea of running her tongue down Stiles Stilinski’s biceps. “No!” She exclaims, then laughs, twirling a strand of hair in her finger with her head tilted, “I mean, I was just seeing if the pants would work.”

Stiles smirks and raises an eyebrow, “Do they work?” Lydia frowns. “I have no idea why you look so smug, but . . . yes.” She closes her eyes and he stands up and strides closer to her. Brushing a piece of hair that’s his favorite color out of her eyes, he looks at her deeply. “I really hope you’re okay. You seem a bit off. I try . . . so hard, to understand. So I don’t have to ask. But sometimes I can’t tell . . .”

Lydia stays silent for a moment, considering the statement. She knows Stiles tries to understand her, to read and memorize her emotions. There have been plenty of times when he knew what she was feeling before she did, and she always appreciated it. It’s a big relief to not have to constantly go into detail about whether you’re okay or not, especially to people who don’t actually want an answer. But right now, it’s different. He couldn’t read her when she doesn’t even understand what she’s thinking. Lydia presses her forehead to Stiles’ and he sighs. 

“Thank you, Stiles.”  
“Me? Thank you for helping me choose an outfit. I could’ve showed up in sweatpants and a superman shirt!”  
Lydia releases a laugh towards Stiles’ lips and they’re holding each other close now. She feels her heart and whole body warm up. It’s now that she thinks maybe she could return at least some of the feelings Stiles has always been so open with showing. So why is Lydia so afraid? 

“No, it’s . . . thank you for loving me.”  
Stiles smiles and presses his lips to Lydia’s. It’s that simple.  
In this instant, Lydia doesn’t try to hide just the degree of utter melting that she’s doing. She doesn’t flatten her hair for fear of fly-aways, she doesn’t wonder if her lips are pursed enough, she doesn’t even remember what outfit she’s wearing the time the boy who told her she looks beautiful when she cries kisses her for the first time. Rather, she thinks just maybe this is what she’s been waiting for.

Once she finally can form words, she speaks, “Now why did it take you eight years to do that?”

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is really short but it's sort of my first one shot type deal and I've never written anything for the teen wolf fandom before but! Let me know what you think, I go nuts for Stiles/Lydia so I'll probably be writing much more. I really hope it isn't boring, I know it's kind of weird... anyway, thank you for reading :)


End file.
